落叶归根

王力宏-落叶归根

词曲:王力宏

举头望无尽灰云
那季节叫做寂寞
背包塞满了家用
路就这样开始走
日不见太阳的暖
夜不见月光的蓝
不得不选择寒冷的开始
留下只拥有遗憾
命运的安排
遵守自然的逻辑
谁都无法揭谜底
喔～远离家乡不甚唏嘘
幻化成秋夜
而我却像落叶归根
坠在你心间
几分忧郁几分孤单
都心甘情愿
我的爱像落叶归根
家唯独在你身边
但愿陪你找回
所遗失的永恒
当我开口你却沈默
只剩一场梦

I am a girl.

I am the girl who speaks out in class.
I am the girl who lives in the big empty house across.
I am the girl who seldom drives.
I am the girl who almost drown in swimming pools.
I am the girl who trips herself.
I am the girl who doesn't have a car.
I am the girl who loves every sports.
I am the girl who mixes around with big boys.
I am the girl who runs a lot.
I am the girl who sings and dances in church.
I am the girl whose parents are non-believers.
I am the girl whose sister would lean on her.
I am the girl who helps her brother to sneak out.
I am the girl who sleeps late.
I am the girl who talks a lot.
I am the girl who is weirdly happy.
I am the girl who smiles to herself a lot.
I am the girl who can't drink too much coffee and tea.
I am the girl who love vanila and coke.
I am the girl who writes, blogs, and sketches.
I am the girl who gets drunk without alcohol.
I am the girl who likes a guitar-playing guy.
I am the girl whom only one guy would call her sexy.
I am the girl who likes to eat.
I am the girl who loves cooking like Jamie and kids.
I am the girl who likes teaching and earn plenty from it.
I am the girl who always tag along.
I am the girl who would sleep in big pajamas.
I am the girl who loves T-shirt and jeans.
I am the girl who is a shopaholic and bloggaphile.
I am the girl who owns a mini library.
I am the girl who has a princessy room.
I am the girl who dreams a lot.
I am the girl who sings aloud in showers.
I am the girl who laugh aloud when she cries.
I am the girl who love night views from the bridge to his room.
I am just like any girl sitting right beside you.

I am a girl. God's little girl.


bloggaphile
-va-

-copyrights reserved-

I've always like simple words being put together, like beads being tied up into a funky necklace. My way of putting my thoughts into words. my expressions. "I never know when it started"..."late nights"...."drunkenness"..."watch from afar"...."your presence and absence"....of my words, of my God, of my late nights, of my him, of my thoughts, of writing my blogs to people who would never read it, of words that people understand with thoughts that nobody can comprehend. Leave me this way.

Bloggaphiles do view blogs. I hate it when you try to be someone esle. writting things that never exist in words of mine, don't try to be me when you hardly know me. call me selfish, this is the only space I can occupy, fully of myself, so won't you leave me alone?! Does it seem cool to you to try to be someone esle? Stop faking that you're falling apart! Stop making you like when I was breaking down. Trying to duplicate my late night drunkenness. Feeding on my inspiration. What are you?!

What are you thinking, you're not fooling anyone trying to become something esle. Plain crappy of you to do whatever you're trying to do. Simply putting other people's words in your page and fake an identity. Writing for the sake of your hypocrite thinking.

My words for you. Get a life.


-bloggaphile-
copyrights reserved
© homegirl76

something killed me

something killed me. I don't know what. I just realized that I died. when? I have no idea. Proabably before I was drunk.

something killed me. this family. differ in beliefs won't split the family, it's the sceptical opinion against my belief that would. It's not the misunderstanding that breaks the bond, it's the unwillingness to understand that does. you killed me. did you notice?

something killed me. my best friend. hugs and kisses never heals me, they healed you. of guilt. neglect,ignore,absence...feel familiar with these words? Shh... I died, did you notice?

something killed me. my friends. did you know me? my inexistent, my invisiblity...shh...something killed me, could you hear me? empty people..could you understand me? something killed me...

something killed me. this world. strange strange world. a place of weirdness, of non-believing, of non-belonging, of unknowing, of non-living, of non-existing; a place of in-betweens, teared between. this world, you killed me, did you notice?

something killed me. this life. never ending, of slow creep. of silent nights, of cold hearts, of lonely meals. such lengthy story. which part killed me? my life. please tell me.

something killed me. this dream. I'd always loved this dream, sweet calm peaceful nightmare. long long dream...when did i sleep? after I died? but my dreams killed me. how could this be?

something killed me. these songs. of my life. hmm..mm....big girls don't cry...50 miles to go and she was running low, on faith and gasoline....hello there, the angel from my nightmare...this innocence is brilliant, I hope that it could stay.....I'm not missing you....my scars reminds me, the past is real.... come on, sing along, pieces of words that made up my life, my life that killed me.

something killed me. can anyone see? can anybody tell me? I killed me. my cold hand, my stuffed heart, my drunken brain.

I killed me. somebody save me...Father, save me.


dead bloggaphile: certified death 8.00a.m. 7.6.1989
-va-

依賴

Oxford Advanced Learner's Eng-Chi Dictionary
依賴 [mandarin]: dependent; to rely on ( the support, etc. of) in order to exist or to be true.

Bloggaphile Va's Guide to Life
依賴 [existent/life/love]: the privilege of having/ abstractly having sb to lean on; to cling on to at times, to look forward to, the inexplainable jinx of holding one together.

My drunkenness always gives me the claim to not know the beginning of a certain process in my life. I am drunk. I love it when I am drunk... Yes, dependence is a process, and I never knew when it started. I can only assume when it start. I allow myself to remember the parts and pieces of the things I wanna remember and I always remember them well. But I would always leave out bits of it, giving out a room for me to complete painting the pictures with my mind. In other words - saving spaces for my imagination to flow.

Well, tonight I disect myself...weaving a process which I cannot recall. Getting used to his presence...a presence that seems so natural, it makes no sense. a person that blends in so well in the crowd, he seems invisible, an ordinary that catches breaths and get away with his acts. his presence, his voice, his smile, his words, his jokes, his car, his friends, the crowd. Got used to having him around. a habit of having him around...a habit...of mine. *smiles*

Habits - of random meetings, of pointless messages, of meaningless words being put together. The anxiety of him stop replying, the worries when he is slipping away, the nervousness of finding proof that he had always, always been around, only unnoticable. Him being around, doesn't neccessary have to be physically around, digital presences? cyber presence? Just enough proof to give me the comfort of he is still sharing my space, my air, that he'd not vanish from my world. Please please please tell me you had always been around.

The dependent of his present absence. When such reliance turn into dependence, it's painfully beautiful, finally realizing I am depending on him, without him knowing, in his absence. The dependence that wrote this blog, the dependence that kept me waiting, the dependence that kept me smiling, it's seems so small yet it's essential to keep this time running, keep this life going. Silly isn't it, if you would know you mere existent is enough to generate such words? In your presence, I find strength; in your absence, I find hope. Dependence is less than words, yet it weaves words.

I missed you. If you do know, please tell me, you'd be around. My survival on the on-and-off presence of yours.



waiting
-va-

waiting

2 years.the beginning of waiting. the confusion of waiting. the tiredness of waiting. the blurred moments of waiting. the pained moments of waiting. the beautiful bits of waiting. the end of waiting. the result of waiting.

paranoid

Is it just me... or we are growing apart?
Is it just me... or those feelings are real?
Is it just me... or it is more than just a message?
Is it just me... or there really are problems beneath?
Is it just me... or there never really is..?
Is it just me... or those smiles are faked?
Is it just me... or we are never more than just friends?
Is it just me... or am I covered in ash?
Is it just me... or we needed more trust?
Is it just me... or I'm going nuts?
Is it just me... or you are avoiding me?

If it is...can someone please tell me why?

-empty minded-
bloggaphile

the beauty of watching from afar

Never knowing when it started, I got used to the distance. The things that came between. The long road seemingly endless, the on and off crowds, the days, the nights, the trees beside the roads...the same lamp posts that nobody ever noticed. On the other side, are we doing similar things? In the nights, did we shared the same emptiness? The same thoughts? The same tiredness from dwelling in the city that we seemed too insignificant to be remembered.

I've gotten used to the distance. My first valentine. Feeling the comfort being out of the picture. I loved watching those in the pictures, coloured. Her eyes shone as he sang her the song. His song. I smiled. How beautiful. And he smiled, settling her around his arms. I settled in the empty seat in the gallery, the comfort of my far away view. My first valentine with the painter. The beauty of watching from afar.

I've gotten used to the distance. The silence. In the nights. With my words, my thoughts. I let my left walk on the streets, in the crowd, did our shoulders brush? Strolling in the breathing of the city. Would you have known that I was at the corner? The next exit to the quietness of the city's voices. If we have followed the directions, would we meet despite the crowd?

I've got used to the distance. Gazing at your windows, waiting for the beams in through the gardens. The warmth of sharing the same breath, the same nights, the same calmness in the darkness of this place. I'd always liked my views, from afar. I wouldn't need to expose myself to the paint and canvas to indulge in the pictures. The gentle heat from the orange and reds of the leaves and the cooling blues and greens of the sky would have been enough. I sat from afar. In the darkness, among the beams of the night sky, watching over you, in the picture.

I've always enjoyed the distance. Just as the readers got to know the characters in the novels, I had been reading a story of this busy city from afar. Among the people...among the crowds, of the characters. They never knew each other. Walked side by side, been on the same bus, the same streets, same bookstores. The writer's unpredictable ways of placing each and everyone of the characters. People from miles away, and those that had been sharing the same air.

I sat on a bench, watching the pictures in the gallery. Would you, in the picture, had saw me? Or would you, in the books had read about me too? Or am I the one in the books and the pictures?

If it is so, would I had fallen in love with the character in the books. Would you had saw me did so?

-va-

never say "if"

Someone in the past invented the idea of living your days as if they are your last days. Lasts?

If this is my last day. would I tell him all about the window gazing?
If this is my last day. would I say I love you?
If this is my last day. would any other days matter?
If this is my last day. would I have been here, trying to make the world understand?
If this is my last day. would I spend a quater of it travelling to see you for one last time?
If this is my last day. would I be smiling when I finally see you?
If this is my last day. would I have spend my last with you? Or is all these just my imagination?
If this is my last day. would there had been any negotiation? Or all that wouldn't have matter?
If this is my last day. would I be in the warmth of your presence? sharing your air. replaying the moments. If I would be so, would I have pour my heart out?
would I? would you? would everything?

I guess there never will be answers to these questions. Never say never? no...never say "if".


-va-

late night replays

Sitting in the night. serenity. consuming silence. Let me swim in thoughts, wonder if one of these days will I finally allow myself to drown in my own thoughts. Not that all my thoughts are of sorrows and confusion. Among those. thoughts of sweet, unforgettable bit and pieces of memories.

2 years ago - I enjoyed the quietness in the night. My 1st encounter with my Creator. Beyond the starlights. The short minute of silence. How wonderful life is, just below His starry creation, above his quiet resting breath. Of sweet air from the sea, of man-made beams along the coast. A bridge stretch thus far into the darkness. A blade that cut through the night. Tears of depression. A miraculous moment of a cross of comfort, serenity, simplicity, depression, anguish and shame. A night where care, and hatred sparkled in the same light.

1 year ago - I loved late nights. Just silence and me. All lights turned off, with a solitary hanging reading light on the desk, the keyboard never stopping. Weaving thoughts...thoughts that none understood. Thoughts of a faraway presence, of a nearby absence. Looking down to the windows below. Among all, heartbeat died in the resurrection of the soft beam beyond that set of curtains. Welcome home.

1 week ago - I let myself be eaten away in the night. Finally tidying up my emotions to a pile of assignment. Such a day. None of those ordinary days. 18. my number. A day just like any other with emotions not even close to those of ordinaries. I had never been capable of keeping my thoughts to myself, hadn't I? But only few ever came close to understanding, the anxiousness of saying my thoughts out loud. Would you have heard? Or did you, but none ever understood...Your mere presence, it would be enough, a birthday wish. Please be around.

Now - I let myself drown in my midnight thoughts. How I loved guitars and songs playing my thoughts. How this is just another speechless night. My survival depending on your silent, distanced existent. I let the details replay in my mind. Of the window, of the time, of you being around. How I love the temporary drunkenness in thoughts, thoughts. words. and memories. Set free a mind that never was understood again in thoughts that never shall be. "I liked to watch the lights through your windows, 'cause I'd know that you're home."

Just another midnight re-runs of my memoirs. I do miss you. My thoughts, my life, you... my existence in you.


-va-

breathe

Waiting for hours to see the little icon beside your name to blink blue. If I could just breathe when I see you're finally just a click away.

Sitting in the empty roll to see you walk through the door. If I could just breathe when you're finally just sitting behind me.

Watching you from behind in the movies to see you laugh to the funny scenes. If I could just breathe when the movie is finally over.

Keeping me waiting to see you at the door. If I could just breathe when you're finally inches away.

If I could just breathe into your air, sitting right beside you. If I could just breathe when you're there telling me to take care. If I could just breathe when you come around, and finally notice that I've always been there. Breathe - to see if I'm still alive and not taken away by time.

But if I do breathe again beside you, our breath would not ever share the same air again.

Don't breathe. Not right beside you.

-va-

things i'd never say

If words are alive, there must be lives suffocated everyday. If words are beings, they were murdered every night. Words. Muted words. Things we'd never say.

Everyday, open our eyes to see a world of mute, deaf, blind... Close your eyes so you wouldn't see; shut your ears so you wouldn't hear; Sshhh...words shouldn't be said. Keep them to yourselves. Shh... words shouldn't be said.

Words. of love, of hate, of angry, of joy, of God, of the evil one, of him, of her, of silence...word of silence. Hurt. Words kill. Words heals. Words... should be left unsaid. Shh...keep it to yourself, leave it unsaid. Keep it in a box, bury it in you...in you...shh...words left unsaid.

Ignored..leave me untouched... Isolated...leave me unscratched. Ignorant...leave me alone... Alone...these words felt so wrong.. wrong? Leave it unsaid. Shh...

Enjoy the sound of silences, the noise of loneliness, the voice of midnight. Cold. Leave the words unsaid. Anguish, leave the words unsaid. Sadness? Don't pass it on. It's not nice to do so. Shh...some words...please stay that way.

I love you, it's that okay?


-va-

1st day of 18th

woke up to see just another one of those days. breathe in the sleepy air. I wonder if they replied yet. how simple one's wish could be. I just want some company, that's all. don't have to have everybody in. it would have done even without the presents. Please? Just don't let it be an empty house.

get up to see just another one of those days. a warm bath, a good shower, a nice song in the morn. I wonder if you're coming. Are u? maybe it wouldn't make much of a difference. I guess. distance. distance? No, it'd make all the difference.

walk up to see just another day. of clumsyness, of frustration. of circulating sadness among these people. I wonder, when will it stop? daydreaming again? yep, it probably never will. Aw, why think? why wonder? It's just another one of those days.

step up to see just another day. of smiles, of wishes, of youngsters' joy. of them, of me, of a birthday song. I wonder, how did they know. =) Aw why think? why wonder? It's gonna be one special day.

rise up to see just another day. of confusion, of work, of rushing, of everything. busy day? not really. busy day? very much. confusion. lots of them. Why recall? why remember? It's just another blurred image of another day.

open up to see it's not one of those days...it's not one of those days =) it's my day. of you, of me, of everybody. of bad food, of a smart foolish movie, of good laugh, of pretty memories. It doesn't matter. It's not just another day. It's a happy day.

stay up to see if it's just another day. of empty house, of noisy silence, of overwhelming loneliness. Nope. It's one of those days. back where everything else started. of faint window light, of silent calm night, of late night assignments, of me, of you, somewhere inside.

what a day. hmm... what a day.

-.-

老实说, 怪失望的.

Sapuri

sapuri [Japanese/Romanize Japanese] : Supplement; a thing added to something esle to complete or improve it.

Eva's dictionary of blogger life:
supplement (life/romance): A part of life (sb, sth, memories) that make life worth living. A certain essence that keep life alive, keep hope afresh, where people find rest and recharge.

I find it in you. my sapuri. In the sunshine, through the rain, late at night, when lights are faint. Thinking back to those simple, insignificant moments, when your eyes were fixed to the windscreen, your voice is just another soft treble in the warm air in the car. Just another day, as ordinary as any other. Just another guy, who took my breath away. Only, this time he refused to give it back.

I find it in you. my supplement. In the car, in the midst of the noise, in the middle of an ongoing glass. I smiled. To the air, to the memories. How many times I relived the memories, just as fresh, still with a gentle scent of you. I feel your presence, in the absence of you.

I find it in you. my essence. An accident photoshot, a few reckless meaningless accident with purpose messages, an unforgettable "Take care" above all words. Never to be forgotten. Irreplaceable. Words will never be words again. How beautiful to live in this mist, unclear, insecure. Thank you, for you.

Supplement. you completes me.

-va-
my bday wishes.

Who am I to be

Who am I in your life. I don't have a right to judge, no right to be angry, no reason to be jealous, no strength to be in your presence. Who am I to even see you from afar. How foolish of me to even think that I may someday somehow end up with a story of my own. To be painted in a picture with you. Fool! Cruelly stupid of me to place myself in this position. Plain ignorant! Who am I to be teased of you. Who am I? WHO am I?

I'm a nobody. Great, I'm a nobody.

Now. Happy Birthday to me.



-va

me

2 words - pai mia

I don't love you like I loved you yesterday.

I liked watching the soft beam through his curtain. I'd know that he's home. How serene was the feeling of sharing his space, his air. Unforgettable smile before my departure. Irreplaceable position on the stage. Our voices among the others. The quietness in betweens. I never found my place in him, perhaps I never will.

I guess I did felt the warmth of his presence. His smile, his words, merely him, just him. "I don't love you, like I loved you, yesterday." I found the feeling of missing you in you absence, the warmth of sharing your presence, the memories of your every smile, word, photo,. memories. you. smile. your car. I don't love you, like I loved you, yesterday.

Maybe the next time I see you,I'd love you, like I never loved. Yesterday.


-va-